


Keep Looking for Me

by ghermez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Akaashi Keiji is a Mess, Bokuto has a crush, Bookstore AU, M/M, konoha akinori doesn't get paid enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghermez/pseuds/ghermez
Summary: Bokuto is a handsome customer that Akaashi can't help but notice.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 13
Kudos: 82
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	Keep Looking for Me

There is a new, handsome customer frequenting the bookstore where Akaashi works. At first, Akaashi can't help but notice the breadth of this man’s shoulders. It’s impossible not to. Not when he walks around wearing a tight, soft, grey shirt that hugs all the right spots, but his face is looking more lost than a five-year-old at a festival. Akaashi wants to help this man, he does, but first, he stays put behind a shelf and watches.

The man doesn’t seem to have a single idea just what to look for or where to specifically look, his head turning left and right, looking more distressed with each passing second. It’s giving Akaashi secondhand anxiety. 

“Who is _he_?” asks Konoha. Akaashi shakes his head slowly.

“No idea. He just showed up.”

Konoha squints. “Doesn’t look like he’s aware he’s standing in the shoujo section.”

Akaashi agrees. The guy pulls out his phone, tapping quickly, then lifts it to his ear. He seems to be attempting to whisper, but he clearly has no grasp of the concept because Akaashi can clearly hear him when he speaks, voice clear but edged with concern, “Yo, dude, I’ve no idea where he is. I swear he walked in here the other day.”

“Whoa. Is he a stalker?” Konoha shudders.

Akaashi grows more concerned. The guy doesn’t look threatening despite the fact that he’s two times bigger than Akaashi. Those shoulders alone could crush him. He’s also almost two meters tall. Akaashi is deciding whether the hair—spiky and weirdly dyed—is endearing or just weird when the guy turns around wildly, phone still held up to his ear, and spots Akaashi. 

He brightens up instantly. It’s like a child finding his mother before their turn comes up at the cash register. Akaashi freezes, but since Konoha makes his escape quickly—as if predicting that whatever is about to happen won’t be good—he stands tall. And like the good employee of the month, Akaashi is determined to be polite and helpful. 

“Hello. How may I help you?” he says, feeling courageous enough to look the guy in the eyes. (They’re very bright, and for a startling second, Akaashi imagines they grow even more luminescent as they stare at him.)

“It’s—Uh—” The confidence with which the man approached Akaashi seems to evaporate, and he stands there, mouth gaping a little. (It’s a pretty mouth, Akaashi notes. Lips a little thin but they look soft.) Then he reaches for the closest shelf to his left and grabs a book. It’s the first volume of _Love Com,_ one of Akaashi’s favorite shoujo manga.

“This! I wanna buy this.” He hands it over to Akaashi.

“Good choice, sir.”

Akaashi turns around, heading to the register, missing the way his new, strange customer turns beet red.

The second time Lovely Complex (It’s a lot simpler than _the handsome guy with the large arms_ ) shows up, Akaashi can’t help but feel a little excitement. There are rarely any interesting customers, so this man becomes a fixture of his day to which he looks forward. Rather than look lost, Love Com seems to be _looking_ for someone. Again. Akaashi wonders briefly, from his spot where he’s shelving the new Science Fiction arrivals, whether he’s found the person from the last time. 

Then he wonders what Love Com’s name happens to be. 

Akaashi doesn’t care to admit that he’s watching Love Com but he can’t help it. He’s wearing a sports jersey that fits over his torso tightly. The shorts are similarly form fitted and highlight his strong thighs. Akaashi’s lips part on a deep sigh. It’s a sweltering summer day outside, so it has left Love Com with a sheen of sweat over his arms, which are dusted with a soft coating of light hair. Akaashi notes this, and the dryness in his throat, then goes back to shelving.

Once done, he straightens up, all the while wincing at how he’s been crouching and giving himself a crick in the neck. 

He’s reaching up to rub the spot that throbs the worst when Love Com approaches him. (Does he look like a hunter finding its prey? Akaashi will never know.) Akaashi puts down his hand and plasters on his customer service smile. It’s small but efficient enough to convince anyone.

It feels sincere enough now. 

“Akaashi!” says Love Com, and Akaashi has to blink before he remembers that he wears a name tag. He is not at all startled at how his name sounds coming from this man’s glorious mouth.

“Hello, sir. How may I help you?”

Love Com doesn’t need to fumble like last time, he has two volumes in hand already, and looks a little proud of the fact. “I kind of didn’t know what I was getting last time, but the story is really good. I need to know if Risa and Ootani get together.”

“Ah, well, you’ll need the entire collection, then,” Akaashi says before he can help himself. He’s read the manga and was familiar with the slow burn romance. His very own Love Com frowns, his thick eyebrows furrowing in the middle. (Akaashi notes his heart beating at a pace faster than normal but it’s been a hot day. He probably needs to hydrate.) 

“Oh. I thought they’d get together in Volume 2 or 3…” He looks down at the books. (They look remarkably small in his big hands.) Akaashi notes some abrasions on Love Com’s knuckles but his nails are short and neat.

“Don’t worry, sir. It has a happy ending,” he is compelled to say, to try and soothe the concern off of this man’s face.

“Call me Bokuto.”

Akaashi blinks. “Would you like me to find you anything else, Bokuto-san?” he says. The name rolls off his tongue. (Has he said the name before? It sounds practiced and natural to his ears.)

Bokuto holds out the volumes, his cheeks red (the summer sun is ruthless), and his excitement clearly restored. Akaashi is glad, _Love Com_ is a great story. This time, when he reaches for the books, Akaashi’s pinky brushes along Bokuto’s palm. 

(There are so many things that remind Akaashi of Bokuto. The color of the highlighter he uses when he reads, for example, is a bright yellow that matches Bokuto’s shade of sunshine. Then there is the flower shop displaying its lilies and hyacinths, spreading an aroma sweet enough to make Akaashi remember Bokuto’s scent when he gets close.)

By the second week since Akaashi’s first time seeing Bokuto in the bookstore, Bokuto stops looking lost, but doesn’t stop _looking_. Akaashi feels a little jealous of that person for having a devoted man like Bokuto looking for him, but the way Bokuto comes to him, ready to discuss the last volume of Love Com, talking a hundred words per minute, sheer enjoyment written in every line of his body, disperses that feeling fairly quickly. 

Moreover, Konoha makes a point to lean close and whisper a quick, “He’s here,” every time Bokuto shows up at twenty to five, like clockwork, but he doesn’t need to. Akaashi knows Bokuto is there. It’s as if the very air in the bookstore changes quality, and the heat dials up. It’s no surprise; the sun is at its hottest when it’s setting, peeking through the front windows, kissing the surfaces, glossing over covers, and forming a halo around Bokuto’s head. 

“I’m kind of sick of Ootani’s complex, why can’t he see how good he and Risa are for each other?” Bokuto says, leaning over the counter. It’s a slow day, there are three or four customers besides Bokuto in the shop, so Akaashi doesn’t feel compelled to do anything but listen.

“But Risa is equally oblivious to how good they are together,” Akaashi defends, sorting through the knickknacks Konoha has forgotten to tidy up.

“Man, how can you stand all the back and forth? Every time I think they’ll be together, something comes up. Romance is hard,” Bokuto complains, but he doesn't seem particularly annoyed by the story line so far. He buys the next volume, proud that he got paid at his part-time job.

“Oh, you should come over, Akaashi!” He hands him a coupon for a free bowl of ramen. “I’ll give you extra pork, too.”

It’s a good offer, and Akaashi accepts it dutifully. He watches Bokuto leave the shop, his bag swinging a little bit, a bright grin on his face.

“That guy is still showing up, huh?” Konoha observes, as if he hadn’t made it his duty to announce Bokuto’s presence. He straightens up his T-shirt on his way out of the break room.

Washio follows him out, his clothes similarly disarrayed. Akaashi wonders if they got the new arrivals sorted; that’s his favorite task. 

“He’s enjoying Love Com.”

Konoha stares at Akaashi. “Are you sure that’s the only reason he comes here _every day_?”

Akaashi stares back. “It’s a good manga _,_ you should read it.”

Bokuto is an inconsolable blubber when he reads the last volume. Akaashi understands, sympathetically handing him a box of tissues. Today’s a little special; the weather is breezy, and Akaashi got to read the latest issue of Jump before Konoha who has a bad habit of telling Akaashi what happens in all of his favorite series.

“Thanks.” He blows his nose noisily. “I just—the ending’s so, so, so, so satisfying. It feels good. And right!”

Akaashi nods. “I agree. It’s a good manga.”

“I’m going to miss them.”

“There’s a spin off, if you want to check it out.”

Bokuto brightens up, following Akaashi through the shop, listening raptly to what Akaashi tells him, even grabbing two volumes of _Kimi Ni Todoke_ since Akaashi brings it up as another one of his favorites. 

“You don’t have to read that, I mean, it’s different from Love Com.” He’s not being the best employee—customers buying things is good for business, but he wonders if Bokuto even likes that type of stories. When he first laid eyes on Bokuto, the last thing he expected him to read was decade old shoujo manga. 

“That’s okay. I want to read everything you like, Akaashi,” Bokuto says, bright and confident, and Akaashi forgets what he had been about to say.

It’s a Friday, and Akaashi wonders why the day passes by so slowly. Realization dawns on him fairly late while he watches Washio lock up the shutter. “Wanna get dinner with us?” Konoha asks. Akaashi takes out the coupon from the pocket. 

“I think I’ll have ramen tonight.”

Konoha gives Washio a look. It’s a frequent occurrence between the two. Akaashi wonders if they are even aware that they're doing it. It’s cute, anyway, and doesn’t bother him. 

“Well, then, see you tomorrow.”

“I don’t work tomorrow,” he corrects Konoha.

“Oh, yeah, enjoy your day off, then.” Konoha gives him a grin, and Washio waves. Akaashi watches them link hands as they walk away. Then he opens his phone and looks up exactly how he can get to My Special Ramen.

It’s actually a decently sized shop sandwiched between a specialty market and an onigiri shop. Akaashi eyes Onigiri Miya, then remembers Bokuto’s eyes. He hasn’t seen him today. Not a single peep from him. It’s Akaashi’s turn to be _looking_ , head twisting left and right, trying to catch a glimpse of Bokuto. 

“Akaashi!” 

Akaashi's heart is doing that strange thing where it thumps so loudly in his chest that he can feel it in his ears. He holds the paper bag close to his chest.

“Bokuto-san. I thought I’d take you up on your offer,” he says. Bokuto is dressed in a faded yellow T-shirt, a pair of dark trousers with a black apron on top, his name stitched on the left side of his chest, right where his heart should be. Akaashi can admit that he finds Bokuto a little handsome (breathtakingly so) in his uniform.

Even more handsome than when he came to the bookstore wearing a black compression top that highlighted his powerful pecs.

“Come over here. We’ll get your set up on the counter!” It seems a good place to sit, offering Akaashi a view of the cooks working seamlessly in the kitchen. There’s a dark-haired guy looking at him then calling for Bokuto.

“Yeah! Finally!” Akaashi hears Bokuto say. He looks down at the menu instead, wonders how he’s supposed to choose. There are so many options.

Maybe Bokuto can help him in that area. And indeed, he stands by Akaashi’s side and shows him all the special dishes, advising him to get chashu ramen. “Don’t worry about the extra pork, I got you covered.” He winks. Akaashi must be really hungry because there’s a rumbling in his chest.

While he waits, Bokuto pours him some water since Akaashi declined his offer of beer. “How come you're eating alone?”

“I’m not alone. You’re here,” he says. Bokuto blinks. Akaashi realizes his mistake. “Of course, I don’t mean to distract you from your job, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto shakes his head. “Not at all. I just—I thought you came with someone, not to see _me._ ”

“Why won’t I come see you? I noticed you didn’t stop by today.”

Bokuto’s arm is as lovely as always, bulging when he lifts it to rub the back of his head with a wide palm. Akaashi wonders how that hand might feel patting his head, how his fingers might comb through his hair, but he is simply curious. It’s harmless. “Yeah, I was busy trying out for a team today.”

“Team? What kind of team?”

“Well, I’m a volleyball player and I’m trying to go pro.”

That explains the athleticism. Akaashi lets his eyes roam Bokuto’s body, and everything he sees can be filed away as evidence. He’s seen some games growing up, but he wishes to see Bokuto playing. When he says as much, Bokuto’s cheeks get bright red. It is a humid night, and Bokuto is in the middle of pouring out hot soup.

Bokuto flounders a little as he places Akaashi’s bowl in front of him, but he waves away Bokuto’s apology, wiping the drop at the rim with his thumb, then brings it to his mouth. He can’t help the low hum at the back of his throat. The broth is light and well seasoned. He likes the tang of the soy sauce he detects as an aftertaste especially. 

He looks up to tell Bokuto as much, but the guy is staring, eyes wide as the saucers of side dishes he has placed in front of Akaashi. 

“Are you all right, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto clears his throat, wiping down his forehead with a tissue. “Perfectly fine. It’s just this heat… Give me a minute.” He quickly disappears into an alcove Akaashi assumes is a place employees can take a break from being in the forefront of the shop. He understands. He sometimes escapes to the break room when the work day challenges his patience. 

Instead of waiting for Bokuto to return, he takes his first bite of the noodles. They are neither soft or spongy, just perfect. He is smiling to himself, unaware of how he might look absolutely besotted with a bowl of ramen, but he doesn’t mind. It’s a bowl full of affection, and he wishes to remember how it feels long after he’s eaten it.

He has his dinner slowly, chewing every noodle and piece of pork carefully enough, letting the flavor coat his tongue and fill his senses. When he’s done, he lifts the bowl and sips the remaining broth. Staring down at the empty bottom, stomach full and heart fuller, Akaashi knows that he hasn’t just eaten, he got recharged. He doesn’t use the coupon after all, but pays the full price and leaves a generous tip for his server, who never returned.

He’s picking up the paper bag, regretting not giving it to Bokuto before he got busy. Then again, he’ll probably see him at the bookstore.

He is walking out of the shop, contemplating stopping at Onigiri Miya to grab a box for tomorrow when a thought pops into his mind. What if Bokuto doesn’t come to the shop ever again? What if he stops looking at Akaashi like he eventually stopped looking for that person?

He’s reaching for the handle of the door to Onigiri Miya, but his hand drops. His chest hurts, an ache deep and unforgiving, and he finds it harder to breathe. He turns around and walks away, ignoring the gnawing hole in his chest threatening to kill him. It must be the ramen, he thinks, then takes it back. _It must be me. I can’t handle happiness in a bowl._ He doesn’t get very far, the hole is demanding and he is wearier and more tired every step he takes.

“Akaaaaaaassssshhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiii!” 

It’s undeniably Bokuto calling out his name. But Bokuto doesn’t know that Akaashi has ceased existing, that he is merely a canyon of loss and misplaced sadness. Empty and barren. He fists a hand in his shirt, tries to wipe away the pain from his expression just in time for Bokuto to catch up to him

“I—” He pants. “I wanted to say goodnight.” He pants some more. “You left too quickly.”

“I apologize for my haste, Bokuto-san. You seemed busy.”

Bokuto waves away his apology, and something in the movement of his palm swats away Akaashi's pain. He can breathe more normally now.

“Is that for me?” He points at the bag in Akaashi’s hands.

Akaashi looks down. He wrinkled the paper. He tries to smooth it out but when he fails, he simply hands it over with a rueful smile. “It’s just a couple of things I like.”

Bokuto’s smile takes Akaashi’s breath away. “Thanks.”

They stand there, watching one another.

“Did you enjoy it at least?”

Akaashi doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. Seeing you has elevated my spirits greatly.”

Bokuto stares at him, his smile falling off his face. It's a tragedy. _How do I manage to fix this somehow?_ he thinks, when Bokuto squeaks out, “I meant your dinner.”

The heat seeps into his cheeks. Akaashi nods, but it's not enough to hide his embarrassment. Has he just said something he shouldn't have? He feels like it, though Bokuto doesn't seem upset. Rather, he glows brighter than the fireflies floating by the street light close by.

“Does this mean—Can I presume that you…” He desperately needs Bokuto to finish his sentence but he can be patient. He will wait forever if he has to. 

“Take your time, Bokuto-san. I will wait,” he tells him because something tells Akaashi that Bokuto responds best to positive affirmations, even if that something sounds like Akaashi’s all knowing inner voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Bokuto says, his eyes glittery, and in those sparkles, Akaashi recognizes some of the happiness he felt at the bottom of that bowl of ramen.

He’s walking to the bookstore on his day off because he got mesmerized by Bokuto’s eyes and forgot to tell him he has the day off. That’s no issue, he will help out until Bokuto shows up then he can go home and lay in bed and think of how Bokuto left a lingering sweetness in the air that smelled like home. 

“What are you doing here?” Konoha says the second he walks in with a clear takeaway cup of iced-coffee in hand and sees Akaashi wiping down the counter, the sleeves of his deep green shirt rolled to the elbows. 

“Wiping down the counter,” Akaashi answers unhelpfully, to which Konoha gives him a particular nasty look, his free hand resting on his hip.

“Smart ass. Well, whatever, if this means I can have my coffee in peace, then fine.” But because he’s secretly a sweetheart, Konoha turns around and disappears, showing up fifteen minutes later with a similarly sweaty cup. Akaashi knows that when he takes a sip, it’ll be the salted caramel he likes a lot. 

“So, how did your night go?” Konoha asks as they sort through boxes of new releases.

Akaashi looks at the volumes in his hands, covers bright and pink, declaring love at first sight, and smiles to himself. “It was good. I had the heartiest bowl of ramen.”

Konoha looks at him like he just said that he was kidnapped by King Kong. Then shrugs.

“How was yours?” That gets Konoha talking about the horror movie Washio suggested they watch and how it scared Washio more. 

It is nice to listen to Konoha talk, but Akaashi grows impatient with each passing hour. By midday, he looks so often at his wrist watch that Konoha pushes him out of the door and tells him to get some food.

“Any more of your yearning and I’ll perish. Go.”

Akaashi finds himself walking towards Onigiri Miya, thinking of bright golden eyes and a laugh like starlight. He’s thinking of Bokuto so hard that the last person he expects to bump into is him. But there he is, in a pressed blue shirt that makes Akaashi’s heart do back flips, buying a box of onigiri and looking like he’s handing out little pouches of kindness to everyone he meets. Akaashi knows that Bokuto saves the biggest smile for him, though. He just does.

It takes less than a second for Akaashi to decide that he wishes to spend a long time looking for Bokuto and being looked for by those eyes. Because nothing compares to the way sunshine trickles into his heart when Bokuto turns and sees him. 

“When did you know I liked you so much?” Akaashi asks, his cheek squished against Bokuto’s chest. The air-con is blowing soft cool air in their direction. They’re in Bokuto’s room.

Bokuto’s mouth presses against Akaashi’s forehead, sliding down his cheek, then kisses his mouth full on, long and good until Akaashi is sighing for more. Then he says, “The day you gave me half of your onigiri.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter as [@kuroosauce](https://twitter.com/kuroosauce)


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